One Shots
by Teveau
Summary: This is going to be a series of one-shots featuring John/Zed. Please read and review; enjoy.
1. Thirst

**Author's Note:** I haven't had much time to write lately. Things have changed at work and my schedule is a lot more demanding this year, so there's not going to be any proper full-length drabbles anytime soon. However, when this kind of thing happens, I have discovered that I really enjoy working with prompt tables. Enjoy; please R&R.

This one takes place probably sometime after Waiting for the Man. Not related to my other stories.

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Prompt: **Thirsty**

She awakens sometime in the night, one of those summer nights when the air is too still inside the mill, humid and sticky. Rubbing her eyes, Zed realizes how thirsty she is and sits up, groggy, but on a mission to go get a glass of water.

Outside of her bedroom, the air is a little cooler. There are no lamps on; silver-blue light from the windows pours in, illuminating her way. Zed tiptoes, not wanting to wake John or Chas.

No need. John is sitting in the kitchen in his boxers, white shirt unbuttoned, a bottle of bourbon and a whiskey glass in front of him. He looks up when she enters the kitchen, sits up a little.

"Hey," she whispers to him.

He smiles weakly at her. He's drunk, but not too drunk. "Hey."

"Why aren't you asleep?" she asks, getting a glass out of the cabinet and running it under the sink.

Water splashes onto her hand, cold and clear, and Zed touches the back of her neck, letting the droplets run down her shoulders and collarbones. She sighs. "It's hot." She takes a long drink from the glass. "Why are you awake?"

He shrugs. "Too hot to sleep."

She leans on the counter across from him, sets her glass down, and slides it towards him.

John looks at it for a second, then takes it and drinks from it as well. In return, he pours a little more bourbon into the glass and passes it towards her. Zed takes it, hitches her breath, and tosses a gulp down, grimacing, before chasing it with another gulp of water. The bourbon burns going down, and leaves a warmth in her stomach that is too warm for this stifling night.

He stands, putting the bourbon underneath the cabinet where it belongs, and walks slowly around to the other side.

"I've been thinking," he says.

"Mm?"

"You've got that apartment downtown. You haven't stayed in it in weeks."

"Yeah." She turns toward him, the thin strap of her camisole sliding down a shoulder.

"I think you should stop wasting money on a place you're not staying in." He looks at the shoulder the strap has fallen down. Wordlessly, he slides one finger under the strap, lifting it, running a single finger up it until it's back on her shoulder. His hand brushes across her collarbone, and then he drops it. "Good night, Zed." He saunters away.


	2. Repeat

**Author's Note:** Thank you to those who reviewed; I really appreciate it.

This one takes place shortly after Blessed Are the Damned. Pretty fluffy, sorry. Had a rough week, and when I have a rough week, I like fluffy puppies and rainbows. Please R & R; enjoy.

Prompt: **Repeat**

When he invites her to stay with him while she recovers from holding the angel's beating, oozing black heart, John's completely forgotten about the fact that he's going to be living with a woman for an uncertain amount of time.

She keeps her things in her bedroom, doesn't make messes, and even cooks dinner, practically having to shoo Chas out of the kitchen (although Chas insists on doing the dishes afterwards).

But the one place that he feels her presence the most, quite honestly, is the shower. Things simply sprout on the shower rack one day. John has always kept a bottle of shampoo-and-conditioner-in-one and a bar of soap on the metal shelf that hangs over the shower spigot, and a can of shaving cream and a razor on the sink. Now there are bottles and jars lining the sides of the tub; cream pots and lotion tubes ordered up neatly on the sink counter.

Curious, he picks one up.

 _Moisturizing cream_ , the label says. He picks up another. _Cuticle cream_. Another. _Sea salt scrub._

John opens the jar experimentally and dips a finger inside. Out comes an oily grit and the scent of eucalyptus. He opens another, to find that his hand smells of lemon merengue. Shaking his head, John turns on the shower and steps in.

He's usually a pretty quick showerer, but, reaching for his usual shampoo/conditioner, he discovers that the bottle is empty and curses himself for not remembering to pick up more. Turning, he looks at the myriad of bottles that have taken up residence, and plucks one from its place.

 _Invigorating shampoo_ , it reads, _Tea tree oil and chammomile!_

He sets it back down, and tries another. _Revitalizing shampoo. Lilac and lavender!_

He makes his way down the line, at last discovering one made from ginger and orange blossoms which he deems to be manly enough. It's shampoo, but right beside it is a bottle of matching conditioner _guaranteed to leave your hair feeling soft, silky, and with luminous shine!_

He squirts out a little in his hands and scrubs it into his hair. It lathers up much more than what he's used to, and, not unpleasantly, leaves his scalp feeling tingly. John looks down at the bottle again.

 _Rinse and repeat for best results!_ the label encourages him.

He does, followed by the conditioner. Then he rinses off with a peach melon body wash, and to be honest, is feeling quite pleased with himself when he steps back out of the shower. His hair feels thick, and as he scrubs a towel over his head, then looks in the mirror, it _does_ look a little glossier.

Pulling on his clothes (something else he's got to get used to; roaming around in a towel has led to at least two awkward-yet-sexually-charged run-ins with Zed, until he finally remembered to start bringing his clothes into the bath with him), he exits the bathroom, whistling, a little more swagger to his gait, and passes Zed, carrying her towel, on the way downstairs.

She turns to look at him after getting a whiff of his new orange-and-peach-infused scent.

"Did you use my shampoo?" Zed asks incredulously.

"Oh, sorry, love. I ran out, saw that you had plenty to spare. I didn't think you'd mind."

"No, it's not that I mind, I just..." she can't stop the amused grin that spreads across her face.

"What?" he asks.

"You're whistling _I Feel Pretty_ , is all."


	3. Storm

**Author's Note:** Thank you to those who have read and reviewed; your comments are greatly appreciated.

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Prompt: **Storm**

It's one of those storms that rolls in just before dusk arrives, turning the sky a sickly shade of grey-green against an orange horizon. Zed stands outside, watching the wind catch in the trees around the mill, cutting up into a sharp whistle. Her curls blow wildly and rainy, gritty mist flies into her eyes as she leans against the door frame, arms crossed.

John and Chas aren't back yet.

They'd driven into town a little over an hour ago – something about getting copper for some spell John wants to try. When they left, Zed had been happily drawing and told them to go without her. Now, as a wall cloud covers the sky, the knot in her stomach is tight and hard, and she can't stop clenching her jaw.

Lighting streaks across the sky, shortly followed by a burst of thunder that she can feel rattle in her chest. Something hard taps her shoulder and then bounces to the ground. Zed bends down and picks up the marble-sized piece of hail, rolling it in her palm as several thousand more fall from the sky, bouncing across the ground. In the distance, she can hear the tornado sirens begin to go up in town.

The truck comes hurrying up the road, lights on, windshield wipers flapping, and Zed discovers that she can breathe again. Chas parks and they both get out of the car.

"Are you off your trolley, woman? Get inside!" John yells over the sound of the hail.

He slams the truck door shut and Chas is on his heels as they scramble into the mill, closing the door behind them. He grips her hand, pulling her downstairs to the lower level, and all three of them cram into the bathroom downstairs. The lights go out.

Chas, broad as he is, takes up a lot of room, and the trio is standing in the tub. Chas stands off to the side so as to give them a little space, but even so, it's like sharing a closet with a Humvee. John throws an arm over Zed's shoulder, pulling her into his chest to give make more room as a freight train seems to roar by overhead. She leans into him in the dark, allows her head to drop onto his shoulder, feeling the vibration of the walls and the thrumming of his heart.

Eventually, the sound stops, and the air pressure hanging heavy releases; the entire mill shudders. The lights come back on and the three venture out into the mill to survey the damage. It's only when Zed is upstairs, looking around, that she realizes John is still holding her hand.


	4. Burn

**Author's Note:** Thank you so much, Camelia, Carpathian, and Cerruenos. I really appreciate your comments and support.

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Prompt: **Burn** (Carpathian, this one's for you)

Sitting on the couch, John watches her in the kitchen. She is standing on one leg, her foot sliding up and down restlessly on the back of her calf as she peers down at the recipe book. He's mesmerized by the impelling movement of her foot for some reason, rubbing up and down on her ankle.

As though she can feel him staring, Zed turns around, but John is fast and is looking down at book in a split second. Narrowing her eyes but smirking, Zed turns around and resumes chopping up peppers on the cutting board.

There's tension in the air and both can feel it – not negative tension, pleasant tension, actually - just the faint tickling of knowing _something_ might happen tonight. Perfect night for it, too – Chas is out, and won't be back for another few days. They've just solved a case and nothing else has cropped up yet.

Three days ago, they'd been screaming at one another.

* * *

"It's time for me to go, is all," Zed said, throwing clothes haphazardly into her bag without folding them. "I've worn out my welcome and now I need to leave."

"You haven't worn out your welcome," John argued, taking her clothes out and tossing them on the bed.

"Look, ever since we got back from New Orleans, you haven't spoken to me. You won't _look_ at me-" she moved a hand to his face, forcing his eyes to meet hers. "I can't stay here if we can't talk."

"Where are you going to go? Back down to see Corrigan?" He jerked out of her grasp and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms.

"There is nothing going on with Jim and I."

"You kissed him."

" _He_ kissed _me_ , not the other way around."

"I didn't see you pulling away."

"Well, maybe you could grow a pair and actually admit that you have feelings for me, and then we wouldn't be in this mess!"

He burst away from the wall and moved forward, standing an inch from her face. "I do have feelings for you," he growled. "I've offered you a place to stay, to keep you safe, because I like having you around. I don't exactly have a track record for keeping women around more than one night. You have shoved off every advance I've made to get close to you with your need to protect yourself. So I've tried to respect your distance, leave you be. Yet here you are, telling me _I'm_ the one that needs to make the first move. What the hell am I supposed to think?"

Zed stared at him, enraged and terrified and turned on, all at the same time. _He's right_. "I'll stay," she said softly.

Instantly, his fury dissipated. "What?"

"You're right. I've turned you down because I'm afraid of how I feel about you. I don't want to do that anymore."

He backed away from her, nodding. "Good." John turned and left the room.

Then they proceeded to avoid one another for the next two days.

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Now, on the third day, Zed asks him in the morning what he wants for dinner that night. She's cooking, she says, because when Chas isn't there, John's culinary pursuits are something akin to putting a frozen pizza in a stove and then announcing that dinner is made.

And then she gives him this _smile_. Biting her lip a little. John catches her mood, that flirtatious, mock-evasive, and tells her he wants something spicy.

The timer dings and Zed moves to the range to take the fajita meat off of the burner. The corner of her square potholder slips and she burns her finger on the iron skillet.

"Ow!" she hisses, then holds her finger up, looking over the wound.

John is up and moving over to her, and has her hand in his in so little time it takes her aback slightly.

"Small burn," he tells her. "It won't even blister." Holding her hand in his, he bends down and kisses her hurt finger.

And that's it. That's all it takes to break the floodgates. Later, Zed doesn't know if he kissed her first or if she kissed him, but the next thing she knows, his mouth is on hers, not bothering to be gentle or slow. He nips at her lower lip, hands on her shoulders, pushing her backwards until she hits the counter, and then he's reaching down to the backs of her legs, lifting upwards so that Zed is sitting on the counter, legs crossed around his back, and he's kissing her collarbone just so, and he chuckles when she lets out a sigh next to his ear, tilting her head backwards. She squeezes his arm, and the fingers of one hand tangle in her hair while the other hand moves south, and dinner is forgotten entirely.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** Had a bad day today, needed some fluff. Enjoy.

Prompt: **Fall**

He's walking beside her, cigarette in his left hand, as they make their way along the dusty road. He watches her kick a pebble idly, and then she looks up as the evening breeze begins to pick up. The trees begin to sway, and countless leaves of orange, deep crimson, and saffron yellow begin to shiver and ripple in waves.

"I like the trees in the fall," she tells him. "The colors."

He nods, exhaling a plume of smoke. She looks back at him and smiles, and John silently admires the way the setting sun glitters gold in her eyes, before she turns and they continue on their way.

The wind picks up even more, and there's a chill in it. Zed is beginning to wish that she had remembered to grab her jacket out of the truck, which is pulled over at the side of the road a mile back, the battery having finally succumbed to death.

Sliding his trench off his shoulders, he drapes it over hers without saying a word. Zed looks over at him, pleasantly surprised, before sliding her arms into the sleeves.

They walk together, side by side, and after a few minutes, Zed feels his hand slip into hers. She doesn't look up at him, but she moves ever so slightly, interlacing their fingers together. Now they're both smiling.


	6. Down

**Author's Note:** Thanks for the reviews. Please R enjoy.

Prompt: **Down**

Zed had thought the worst was over when the Pazuzu vacated John; he'd seemed fine for a few hours afterwards, said goodbye to Anne-Marie, had something to eat. He must've known it was coming, because he tries to get her out of the millhouse when he starts sweating.

"You should go out," he tells her. "Nice night, go see a movie or something."

She shakes her head. "No. I need to make sure you're okay." She hasn't told him yet about her father and Resurrection Crusade dropping in for a visit.

"Aw, that's sweet, love. I didn't know you cared that much." He smirks at her, but his heart is only half in it and she can tell.

"I just...it was terrifying. I don't want to go out. I want to stay here, and just..."

"You need to make sure Pazuzu's not coming back?" John takes a step closer to her, hands in pockets.

She crosses her arms. She's not in the mood for a _feelings_ talk, and can tell he's not, either. "Basically."

He sighs. "If you must. I'm going to be in the holding cell."

"What? Why?"

"Heroin's not my first rodeo with drugs, Zed. I'm going to be coming down soon and it's not going to be pretty."

"But—I thought that the Pazuzu-"

"Thought it leaving would heal me? No, one last 'screw you' to John Constantine," he chuckles.

"What can I do?"

"Don't come down there," he tells her, turning around. "I'm going to get a few bottles of water from the fridge and head that way."

"Are you sure?"

He looks back at her. "I'm sure. I'll be fine in a day or two." He tries to give her a reassuring smile, but it comes out as more of a grimace.

And, of course, she can't just stay away. She thinks about drawing a bath, but doesn't want to waste the water because she knows she won't relax. She idly flips through a magazine, listens to about seventeen seconds of a song on her her phone, pulls out her sketchbook and puts it back down. She cooks a meal—he might be hungry when he comes out of it.

Chas comes back after dropping Anne-Marie off at the airport. She tells him John's downstairs, and that she is under instructions not to go down there.

"You're not going to listen, are you?" Chas asks her knowingly.

She shakes her head. "No. I was trying to wait a few hours so that I could pretend I wanted to honor his wishes."

Chas leans back against the counter, head hung. "You know it's not going to be good."  
"I know. You're not goinng to try to stop me?"

He shakes his head. "Was thinking about going down there myself, but he'd just shoo me away. Might have a little more luck from you. Wait a few more hours; he'll be too out of it to protest."

She takes his advice and waits, mostly staring into space, until well after midnight. Descending the stairs, her stomach begins to tighten. She steps down as quietly as possibly, slipping off her boots before she gets to the bottom of the stairwell. Zed tiptoes to the door and peers inside.

John's lying on the steel-framed bed on his side, his back to the door. He's shivering, arms crossed and gripping his biceps, muttering something.

Zed opens the door and closes it behind her softly. He shifts, so she knows that he's awake.

"Go away," he tells her, voice low and sluggish.

"Make me," Zed replies, unaffected.

She sets a knee on the bed, lowering herself onto her side, before moving close to him, his back to her chest. She drapes her arm around him, holding her palm over the back of his hand.

A moment later, he shifts a little, moving his hand over hers. He runs his fingers between hers and tightens them. Zed squeezes his fingers, then settles in for the long night ahead.


End file.
